‘We are leaving Vesuvius, it has served its purpose. As you know, a Roman army is marching south towards us. We cannot be trapped here, and not enough of our men are adequately armed, so I intend to march south into Lucania. It’s a rich country and there are plenty of men there who will join us. When we have drawn the Romans to a place of our choosing, we will turn and destroy them.’
There were murmurs of disagreement from the Gauls.
‘Silence!’ ordered Spartacus, who rose to his feet. ‘Any man who disagrees with me can leave now. This is not open to debate. You will obey my orders.’
He stood, rock like, challenging anyone to defy him. None did.
‘It will take us two days to break camp, therefore we need to buy some time.’ He looked at me. ‘Pacorus.’
‘Yes, lord,’ I answered.
‘You will take half your cavalry and delay the Romans. Use whatever tactics you deem appropriate, but you have to slow them down.’
‘You can rely on me, lord.’
‘Good. Crixus,’ Spartacus continued, ‘your men will form the rearguard as we march. If Pacorus fails and the Romans arrive earlier than expected, you will have to hold them off to let the rest of us get away.’
Crixus looked at me. ‘We Gauls will not fail, even if others do,’ he snarled.
We were dismissed. I shook hands with Castus and Cannicus as Crixus and his men barged past us. Outside the tent Spartacus accosted me.
‘I’m relying on you, Pacorus. Our fate lies in your hands. You must delay them.’
I was immensely proud of having been given this responsibility.
‘Have no fear, lord,’ I said, gravely, ‘we will buy you some time.’
We left at dawn, four hundred riders carrying bows, swords and wearing tunics only, no mail shirts. We were going to harry the Romans, not engage them in battle. Already the air was filled the noise of thousands of individuals taking down tents, packing carts and herding animals for the start of the journey. We skirted Vesuvius and rode northeast, across fields and along dirt tracks, the horses kicking up clouds of dust on a parched earth. Godarz rode by my side, as he knew this country better than any of us. After four hours we halted beside a stream running beside a wood and rested the horses. We took them into the trees and removed their saddles. We would rest out of the sun until the mid-afternoon, and then ride north again, towards Capua. After checking our weapons and examining the horses for any injuries, we posted guards and snatched some sleep. I thought about Gallia. I had not seen her since the news had reached us about the Roman army, but I hoped that I would be able to see her again, Shamash willing.
We each carried full quivers. I had selected fifty Parthians and the best archers from the rest, who were mostly Dacians under the redoubtable Burebista, who was bristling with the chance to exact some revenge on the Romans.
‘Forced us to surrender,’ he said to me as we relaxed under the trees. ‘All because our general was stupid and didn’t post scouts as we withdrew, so they sneaked up on us and the next thing I knew he had given up.’
His words were a painful reminder of my own stupidity when we had been captured.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘make sure you don’t get captured again. Hit and run, Burebista, that’s what we’re here for.’
‘Yes, lord. I’ll make sure I hit them all right.’
The heat of the day was abating as we reached the hills to the east of Capua. These tree-covered slopes afforded us some shelter, for there was a distinct lack of hills or cover on the broad plain on which the city stood. Indeed, as Godarz, Nergal and I viewed Capua from the high vantage point we could see that there was no cover for miles around. The city nestled in the broad bend of a meandering river, like a giant snake, that ran from east to west, with the walled Capua being sited on its southern bank. There were houses and villages dotted around it, and a straight road that came from the north, cut through the city and then continued south. Like every major Roman road, it was as straight as an arrow.
‘That’s the road they’ll go down tomorrow,’ remarked Godarz.
I could see a mass of men and livestock about five miles from our position, with figures scurrying around as the Romans constructed their camp for the night. I had to admit that it was an amazing thing to see. A camp with an earthen rampart and wooden palisade created from nothing at the end of each day. A safe place for an army to rest each night, and a place of refuge in the face of an enemy attack. And in the morning it would be disassembled as the army moved on — truly a remarkable feat of military engineering and planning. From what Spartacus had told me, a Roman army marched an average of around fifteen miles a day, which meant that they could reach the outskirts of Naples tomorrow and be ready to attack our forces around Vesuvius the day after. So we had to do something tomorrow or it would be too late.
We ate an evening meal in a site I had selected to be our camp, a glade by the side of a dirt track that wound up the hillside and through the woods. We lit no fires lest the glow of the flames would alert the Romans in the plain below of our presence. Guards were posted in all directions in case a shepherd or other civilian stumbled upon us, though I hoped that all the shepherds hereabouts had joined Spartacus. Before the darkness descended I told the men of the plan for tomorrow. They sat on the ground in a semi-circle, their faces full of enthusiasm. We would attack the Romans tomorrow when they were on the march. I gambled that because they were in Italy, their vigilance would not be as high as it would be if they were marching through enemy territory. They would post a vanguard, that was standard procedure, but we could force the army to stop and hopefully deploy in battle array. In that way we would win our army valuable time, half a day at least.
‘Remember,’ I emphasised, ‘our bows out-range any missile weapons they may have, including any slingers they might possess, so shoot from distance. Don’t worry about accuracy, there are plenty of them and chances are that any arrows you shoot will find a target.’
I didn’t sleep that night, but paced around the camp and checked and re-checked my weapons. The dawn came soon enough, and the men fed and watered the horses and then ate a sparse breakfast of biscuit and water. There was no bravado, just four hundred cavalrymen checking their saddles, bows, helmets and bridles. I left Godarz behind with fifty men. I intended to draw away any Roman cavalry into the hills where they could be ambushed. If things went against us, then Godarz’s force would act as a rearguard if we were overwhelmed on the plain.
As the first rays of the sun appeared in the east, three hundred and fifty riders made their way down the dirt track that led onto the plain around Capua. Already the Romans would be taking down their camp and preparing to march south towards Vesuvius. As we left the cover of the wooded slope we formed into one long line, myself at the head and the other riders following me in single file. As we advanced at a canter I could already see that the Roman vanguard, made up of lightly armed foot and archers, had left the camp and was marching south on the road. The Romans had posted no outriders; why should they? They were in their home country and were here to quell a slave rebellion and not face an equal opponent in battle. Following the vanguard was a detachment of horse and legionaries, and then engineers followed by the rest of the Roman cavalry. The bulk of the legionaries were still inside the camp, dismantling the wooden palisade and packing their personal equipment.